


Punks in Love Have Zero Tact

by ZephyrCamida



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cactus plants are good wing plants, Crushes, Dorky Noya, Flower Shops, M/M, Noya POV, Punk!Au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrCamida/pseuds/ZephyrCamida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello, Nishinoya here, having a mental conniption because my conquest is right in front of me, sporting muscles of a god and peering over some ridiculous plant with a look that can only be described as big, dumb puppy. Fuckin' hell, it's cute – er, hot. He's hot. And cute. </p><p>Shut up me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punks in Love Have Zero Tact

**Author's Note:**

> So, I drew some art for punk!AU Asanoya, and someone mentioned fics. So I wrote fics. Bam.

 

* * *

 

 

If I'm being completely honest, I have no idea what I'm getting into.

 

I mean, for all intents and purposes, I really only came to this flower shop to scout. My target, that is. You know, scouting – an undercover agent hiding in the shadows, doing his thing and leaving when he's done. A ninja of the night. That kind of thing, yeah? Browse the aisles, look at flowers and bushes and whatever other junk they sell. People do that even in flower shops, right? It can't be much different than a market stand at a bazaar or a kiosk at the mall.

 

Right? Right.

 

Anyway, little attention. I'm small in the first place – and I begrudgingly admit that – and you'd think that it shouldn't be too hard. Though I suppose having a flaming shirt and ripped up jeans and more blond streaks by the day in your hair could provide a challenge to that mission, but fuck people, I'm just looking around like everyone else. And it's not like I ain't gonna buy something or anything, because shit, it's only polite and I am not some backyard hooligan, okay?

 

So, finally waltzing in, I come face to face with the shop owner. A cute old lady, probably in her sixties by now, who looks like she could smack a person into next Tuesday with either her hand, her broom, or that enormous purse sitting on a stool behind the counter. Bless her tiny, wrinkly self. She's looking at me, doing the head to toe and back thing – whatever, not like that is anything new.

 

But oddly enough, she just smiles, the crow's feet around her eyes are pretty adorable. I'm a sucker for nice old ladies. They make for good conversation when you help them cross the road. Ask you things like what does your shirt mean, and how back in their day, their rebellious stage was curling up their skirts to their thighs and wearing their boyfriends blazers to school. I've even had one lady say she smoked behind the school. Not that I condone smoking or what not, but rebel old ladies, fucking awesome.

 

She asks me if I'm looking for anything in particular, and I can't exactly say I'm looking for that hot ass probably dallying in the back room, so I settle for the typical 'just browsing, thanks' and trot my little ass off into a random aisle. She bows and resumes to her own thing just as I round the corner, zero suspicion of me what-so-ever.

 

I shove my hands in my pockets, shaking my pants side to side briefly before wandering around. There really isn't much store to explore though, so I might have made the rounds two or three times. Cool stuff though, if you look past the stacks of potting soil and clay pots and the oddly large collection of cacti in the corner of the store. Maybe that'll be my obligatory purchase – for appearances of course because I am undercover. Undercover.

 

“Can I help you find something?” a voice from behind me practically shoots me from my skin. Christ, who does that? I whirl around, fully intent on biting one into whoever decided to sneak up on me, and come face to face with a god damn ficus tree. I know this because the tag juts inches from my face and –

 

_Ohh god._

 

Hello, Nishinoya here, having a mental conniption because my conquest is right in front of me, sporting muscles of a god and peering over some ridiculous plant with a look that can only be described as big, dumb puppy. Fuckin' hell, it's cute – er, hot. He's hot. And cute.

 

Shut up me.

 

“Um,” I stutter, watching him shift the weight of that big ass plant into one arm to curl a loose lock of hair behind his ear. Are you kidding me right now? I'm pretty sure my eyes are bulging from their sockets as obviously as his biceps bulge from his arm. I rub my sleeve instinctively, almost hoping he'll turn his attention downward instead of my shirt matching flame-face.

 

Oh, shit, he's waiting for an answer. Think of something, stupid!

 

“I'm...looking for...a cactus?”

 

A+ there, champ.

 

The big guy, looking more than a little awkward – and not that I blame him with how stupid I'm acting – smiles and tilts his head over to the corner that's...two feet away. I mentally image that little old lady smacking me into next Tuesday. Maybe if I ask nicely, she'll clock me to Friday and we'll call it a week.

 

“O-oh, right. Of course, ahaha,” I'm a wonderful conversationalist, I swear! Ask those ladies, or Ryu, or that guy at the convenience store who kicks me out for talking too much.

 

I scratch my head, and I can't help but fidget on the spot. Excuse you, Mr. Hot Guy whose name I don't know, can you stop doing that thing you're doing? Standing there and being hot? And awkward. Mostly hot.

 

_Ughhh._

 

“Oh, well,” he starts up suddenly, and really, he could recite the phone directory for all I care, he needs to keep doing it – the talking thing. “Are you looking for one in particular?”

 

Well, gee, dude, would it be forward of me to say that I'm particularly looking for one that's more in the six foot range, totally gunking up my system with his attractive and somewhat dorky demeanor, and has a voice that makes me feel like pouring dark chocolate all over and diving in? Is that a thing? Do you have something like that, sir? Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm looking at that right now.

 

And I'm not talking about your damn ficus.

 

“Uh, no. I'm just browsing really, so...”

 

“Oh, okay! Well, if you need anything –“ Oh, I can think of something I need right now, excuse my dirty thoughts. “– I'll be around to help, okay?”

 

I can only nod dumbly, and watch him walk away. I may or may not be pawing at the air as he does so, and I may or may not be looking at his ass. The answer is yes to both. And then I sigh, because wow, I'm not only bad at being a ninja – something my nine year old self would be terribly disappointed in – but I suck at conversations with anyone who is younger than sixty.

 

Wonderful.

 

So now here I am, looking _again_ at the plethora of cacti. I am not even sure whether to call this mission of sorts a success or not. On one hand, I did technically 'scout' the store, and, technicalities aside, I did have a conversation with my target. On the other hand, I pretty much acted like a beached whale, or an obnoxious seal that could only bark stupidly until he walked away.

 

I snort, snatching up a little potted cactus, eyeing it in vague curiosity. I'm sure one of my sisters would get a kick out of this. That, or they'll kick me. Probably should just buy this and get out of here before I embarrass myself even more.

 

Good plan, failed ninja Nishinoya.

 

With a huff, I wander to the front counter, rotating the little plant in my palm. Lo and behold, Mr. Hot Guy is manning the register. Well shit. Let's make this one a winner, okay? On second thought, let's just get through this without looking like a slack jawed ventriloquist dummy.

 

“Oh, you found something,” he greets with a warmer smile as I mosey up to the counter, placing the cactus down more gently than I need to. Eh. My eyes instantly travel down and stare at the patch of beard he has on his chin. _Nice._ And then, as if I couldn't be more obvious, my sights dip lower to catch a glance at his tacky green name tag.

 

Asahi.

 

His name is Asahi. Morning sun. I already know I'm going to be saying that name repeatedly on the way home, that's for damn sure. Just in case, you know, I have a reason to say it later.

 

“Yep,” I chirp, probably a little higher pitched than necessary. I've already established I have the eloquence of a five year old in front of this man, so no harm done, I guess.

 

He gingerly picks it up, scanning the barcode on the bottom of the pot, and places it back where I set it. I fish out my wallet – what else am I supposed to do really? I think I've done my damage, I just need to high-tail it out and regroup and work on my ninja skills so I don't dishonor my youth.

 

“This one's really cute.”  
“Yeah, you are.”  
“H-huh?”

 

Ohhh, _shit._ I just said that out loud. I totally just said that out loud. Well, that's it. Game over. Sorry, little dude me, I have the grace of a drunk octopus instead of a ninja. Apparently, I have the mouth of a drunk too.

 

“Um, yes, _the cactus_ is. I mean – uh, not to say _you_ aren't cute. 'Cause you are, otherwise I wouldn't be here and....oh _fuck me_. Oh god, uh, no, that's not what I mean –“

 

And here, ladies and gentlemen, we cue in the verbal diarrhea.

 

Suddenly, my ears perk up, freezing completely when I hear the sound of...laughing? I glance up from my eternal stare at my fidgeting hands only to see the bi- _Asahi_ chuckling something fierce. And god, he does this thing, where the corners of his eyes wrinkle, and his nose curls the tiniest bit as he laughs. Are people even allowed to be this attractive? Isn't there a max quota? I mean, come on now.

 

“S'not funny,” I grumble, bottom lip sticking out as I glare up at the stupid cute guy laughing at me. He instantly stills, cheeks turning red – stop that anytime now Asahi, seriously – and holds his hands up in surrender.

 

“Ah, I'm sorry, it's just...um.”

 

I shake my head, back pedaling, “Nah, it's fine. I'm the one embarrassing myself.” I wave my hand back and forth over my face for emphasis. I reach into my pocket, pulling out my wallet, shoving the stupid chain out of the way as I snap it open and fetch some money. “How much?”

 

“Oh, right. 650 yen; Did you want to add a note?”  
“A what now?”  
“A note, if it's a gift?” Asahi points at the small display of cards next to the register. Right, right, like personalized or whatever. I am giving this to my sister, so why not? A little more time to admire him, at the very least.

 

“Sure, it's for my sister. Um, put like 'To my darling sister.' or something.”  
“Really?”  
“Don't worry, she'll sense my sarcasm five hundred miles away.” I nod once, grinning. Asahi smiles back at me, scribbling on a card and sticking the plastic holder into the pot. I pay, and collect my winnings. This silly little plant scored me conversation with my crush, okay? It gets brownie points.

 

“Thank you for your purchase! I hope your...uh, sister enjoys it.”

 

I laugh loudly, and the person behind me in line jumps a bit. Whoops. I bow a little towards Asahi, offer a quick thanks, and trot out of the store – ignoring the look that middle-aged dude gives me as I pass. Yeah, yeah, I'm a rebellious, evil guy. Wah, wah.

 

Wiggling my head to the sound of the door bell jingling, I exit the store, and let out a huge breath. Luckily, I think I managed to salvage some sort of good impression with Asahi. At least, I hope so.

 

The owner of the flower shop stops her sweeping to look at me, smiling like sunshine, and bows towards me.

 

“I see you found something you liked, young man.”

 

Yeah, you could definitely say that.

 

“Yep! I couldn't help but get one! Later, granny!”

 

I walk away after giving her my regards, and travel the sidewalk with what probably looks like the dopiest grin ever. I actually got to talk to him. Totally unexpected, and doubly awkward, but it happened and no amount of destroyed honor or lack of ninja skills will take that away from me, damn it!

 

“ _Asahi_...” I say aloud, and I feel my cheeks tingle the slightest bit. Oh boy. It feels pretty nice saying his name. About to pass a couple of girls, I cover my mouth with my hand, hell bent on hiding the blush that burns my face. I say his name again under my hand, grinning cheekily to myself.

 

Absent minded, I shift the plant in my other hand sideways, looking down at the card.

 

I stop.

 

Oh. Oh my god. _Oh my god._

 

On the little note, in messy, scribbles, reads – _For the record, I think you are too. –_ along with a phone number.

 

Just so you know, I might have put that number in my phone at break neck speed. I also might be running down the street, yelling nonsense at the top of my lungs.

 

Zero scouting skills for sure.  

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is a thing. Haha. (EDIT: Chapter 2 is going to instead be a companion piece, as it's already bordering 7k words and totally jumped two ratings.) Should be up within a week, maybe a couple days depending on how some other projects work out. Thanks for reading/kudos/comments, I love you all! /hearts/


End file.
